


Kirk's Tramp Stamp - Spock's POV

by ksalterego



Series: Kirk's Tramp Stamp [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Rimming, Table Sex, Tattoos, Unrequited Love, but only for a little while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:25:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ksalterego/pseuds/ksalterego
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock sees Kirk's tattoo and emotions happen because, vulcan poetry...and Spock's name tattooed on Kirk's ass...how does that even happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kirk's Tramp Stamp - Spock's POV

Spock hesitated outside the door to his cabin. No, he didn't hesitate, he paused. Except here was no reason to pause, and he refused to entertain further delay on his own part. He straightened his shoulders and entered his quarters, stopping precisely far enough into the room to allow the door to close behind him. He listened, and also refused to acknowledge the relief that flooded his body with hormones when he heard nothing but silence.

He moved swiftly, knowing from past experience that if he wasn't able to sink fully into meditation before he heard Jim moving around in the adjoining cabin, he would- the consequences were always difficult.

Spock shortened his preparation for meditation by approximately three-fourths, doing nothing more than removing his shoes and lighting incense before he sank to the floor and closed his eyes.

And still, he was too late. He heard the faint hiss of his Captain's cabin door opening and closing; this ship had been built primarily to human standards and a human would never hear it. Spock ignored the stray question of why he hadn't requested better soundproofing for his quarters; it was certainly available and Starfleet regulations required installation within forty-eight hours of request. Ignored. No, not ignored; set aside for later review.

Spock held his meditation pose, eyes closed, as he listened to Jim, as Jim would say, "shit, shower, and spank." His preferred routine when the universe wasn't falling apart around their ears. Spock actually had no problems with the first two parts of Jim's routine. Well, with the first part of Jim's routine. Normal bodily functions were...normal.

His trouble started with the second part of Jim's routine.

And the fact that Spock had lately discovered within himself a wildly insubordinate imagination.

They had been working together for over two years now, been through thick and thin together, depended utterly on each other in life and death situations on a regular basis. Spock had seen his Captain at his best and at his worst: bursting with life and joy and energy; still and silent on a biobed; taking happiness from the small daily routines with the crew; trying to shut himself away alone in the darkness of his cabin when crewmembers died. They had been there for each other through the aftermath of their individual traumas. Spock had lied and cheated and stolen and killed to save and safeguard his Cap- Jim. There was nothing he would not do to keep Jim safe and that knowledge alone stole his breath regularly. Along with all that, they had ended up naked with or in front of each other more times than Spock was really willing to count at this moment, especially without including the times either of them was flat on a biobed, carefully and clinically separated from their clothing by Doctor McCoy.

Spock believed it was this knowledge that caused him this difficulty, these visuals and memories: of Jim's body, attractive, well-formed, healthy as it was...but containing that being, that katra, the whole of Jim's blinding personality harnessed within the fragile, beautiful human body. It was the whole package, as humans would say, that got to Spock. Jim was an attractive human, no question there. But the thing that sent Spock over the edge was Jim's personality.

Spock's wildly insubordinate imagination tended to focus primarily on the physical aspects of Jim. Spock's attempts to exert control tended to focus primarily on the less tangible aspects of Jim – if you could actually perceive Jim's personality as intangible, which Spock wasn't quite convinced of as yet. In other words, Spock tried to counteract his wild imagination by focusing on his existing and growing feelings for his- for Jim.

Naturally, Spock failed.

Miserably.

His eyes closed and his breathing still steady and within his control, Spock listened to Jim get in the shower and run through his cleaning routine in about five minutes. That was where Jim would start the "spank" part of his routine, if he was going to. Spock always knew when that began because Jim's noises would change from whistling or conversations with himself or even loud and probably obnoxious singing that sometimes, occasionally, set Spock's teeth on edge, to quiet moans and sometimes even indistinct words that Spock could not interpret no matter how much he strained to hear over the sound of the water or the sonics.

Not that he tried.

Very hard.

The noises of Jim in the shower brought Spock's imagination to life. He knew from personal experience precisely how that particular human body looked when completely unclothed and dripping wet. He knew how Jim's hair darkened when wet, emphasizing the bright hot blue of his eyes and the brilliant white of his mischievous smile. Spock knew exactly what the curve and rise of Jim's back and buttocks looked like under streams of water. He knew how the hard muscles of his body looked when they flexed, when Jim made the slightest move or shift in position. He knew...he knew.

Tonight: no...spanking.

But, Jim was whistling after he got out of the shower. A slight deviation from the routine; but then, Jim was not reliably dedicated to any routine, and his "shit, shower, spank" routine was perhaps less of a routine and more of a guideline.

Spock was relieved that Jim was skipping the "spank" tonight. Not glad; not happy; not disappointed. And he should not admit to the relieved. But...there had been a close call today and Spock still shook inside at how close it had been. The actual details were in his report, but he had not yet informed Jim specifically of how close Jim had come to taking a knife in the heart.

Spock had already been too close to the edges of his control to have that conversation without it turning into one of those discussions that left both of them drained and irritable and withdrawn and caused the crew to look at them sideways until they each found a way to get around the frustration and fear and headstrong determination. He just didn't have the strength right now.

Which told him he should probably cancel tonight's chess game.

As much as Spock found Jim physically attractive, he was relatively certain Jim returned the sentiment. What Spock didn't know was if Jim returned his feelings; and that was something he wasn't about to ask.

He heard a small crash, Jim swearing, and checked the urge to go see. Guessing what had happened, Spock allowed three more minutes before he also checked the urge to sigh with resignation, then got to his feet and extinguished the incense burner. He allowed himself one small moment of hope that this was not one of the nights when Jim decided to wear only boxers; Spock was as certain as he could be that that was one of Jim's many ways of...fucking with Spock's head. As Jim would put it.

Spock walked through the bathroom, tapping briefly on Jim's door before walking directly in.

"Hey, Spock. You ready?" Jim asked over his shoulder, then faced forward again.

Spock was not relieved to note that Jim was wearing actual pajama bottoms tonight. Largely because Jim was on his knees in front of the low coffee table and the back of his pajama bottoms were hanging obscenely low on his hips and Spock barely checked the choking inhale his lungs tried when he suddenly noticed the top of a tattoo near the base of Jim's spine, just the top, appearing over his waistband. Jim muttered to himself then leaned to the side and stuck an arm under the couch, ass in the air, to retrieve, apparently, another chess piece. And his pajamas slid drastically south as he moved and Spock saw...his own name...written there in Vulcan...

And the next thing Spock knew, he had a hand in the middle of Jim's back and was pushing him face-down on to the table and the chess board and pieces were flying everywhere and who gave a fuck? Because his name...on Jim's body...and he was already half-hard...

"Spock, what the hell?" Jim tried a push-up and Spock leaned harder, unable to speak but thinking _don't move_ , _wait_ , _stop_ , and _let me see this_ , and he hooked a finger into the back waistband of Jim's pajama pants and dragged them down and Jim yelped and jumped, and he looked over his shoulder as Spock kneeled between Jim's spread legs, and Spock couldn't stop looking at the poetry written there.

"Spock!"

"What is this?" Spock wasn't sure how he managed to speak, and it drained his control even more.

"What the hell is what? What are you doing?" Jim shifted under his hands and Spock could only focus on keeping Jim _right there_ and _stop moving_.

"You have a tattoo," he said.

Jim huffed a laugh and Spock felt this hard human body soften, then Jim faced forward and leaned on his forearms. "Yeah, I got it last shore leave."

"Explain this to me."

"Explain? I got a tattoo. What's to explain?"

"Why did you obtain this tattoo? Why have you not told me?"

"I got it because I was drunk; that's how a lot of tattoos get gotten. I didn't tell you because it's...I kinda forgot it was there. Can I get up now?"

Jim pushed up a little and Spock pushed him back down, not done with this conversation and not entirely understanding what Jim was telling him. "How could you forget this?"

"I don’t really remember a whole lot about getting it to begin with, and I can't read it, and I don't stare at my own ass on a daily basis, so."

Spock's mind went blank for a moment; Jim did not remember getting this tattoo? Did not remember requesting it? Could not read it? Spock said with caution in his voice that even he could hear, "How did you choose the design?"

"I didn't. The artist said she was Betazoid. She said to think of the thing I love most in the universe and she'd tattoo a representation of it." Jim snickered. "She didn't tell me it'd be all over my ass and my junk and everything."

Love most...ass...junk... _love most_ …Spock made a small movement of shock that he couldn't control; Jim looked over his shoulder again and concern lit in his bright eyes. "Spock? You okay?"

Spock met his gaze, stunned. He said, "Is it true?"

"I'm not lying to ya."

"I meant, is what this says true?"

"I really don't know what it says. I kinda don't remember what happened after she got me to her shop, until I was back on the Enterprise, so I don’t know if she ever even told me what it says."

They stared at each other for another long moment, then Spock looked back down. It was a beautiful tattoo, speaking of things perhaps better left unsaid. But, Spock had already lost so much control he did not have the ability not to ask, "May I touch it?"

Jim gaped at him for a long breath, then he said shakily, "Uh, sure. Knock yourself out."

The instant Spock's fingertip came down on the _patam_ , Jim shivered under his touch.

When Spock's fingertip followed the horizontal line to its termination on the right, Jim inhaled sharply and Spock smelled the immediate change in Jim's body chemistry.

When Spock traced the left-most _plat_ and then each _nuhm_ in order, Jim dropped his head to the table with a thunk and grabbed the table edges with both hands and whined, straining at the table, the angles of his back and arms cutting into sharp definition.

Spock grew instantly, fully, hard and his breathing stuttered and he had to gather up all of his control to prevent his hands from trembling. Yet it was not within him to stop. He traced the second _nuhm_ and Jim started panting and Spock found himself breathing in time with him.

Spock held his finger still at the top of the center _nuhm_ , pausing when he realized where this sentence went, and Jim arched back with his hips. Spock had no idea- no, he had every idea of what he wanted to do with his hands full of Jim Kirk, but-

"Don't you dare stop!"

The hoarse need in Jim's voice shook Spock to the core, and he heard it echoed in his own voice when he finally understood and asked, "You want me to..."

Spock cleared his throat, momentarily unable to continue, and Jim growled, "Yes, I want you to. All the fucking way." Then a few seconds later, "Do _you_ want to?"

For the life of him, Spock could not have said no. He would move heaven and hell for this human and he would not walk away from anything Jim offered. He said fervently, "Yes."

And he felt Jim's jubilation beneath his hands, did not need to be a telepath for that, it was so clear. Spock looked again at this human beneath him, this brilliant, precious human, and he wanted more than just this body. He wanted everything he could get, everything Jim would give, everything he could possibly take; perhaps he wanted too much, but he also thought Jim would understand that.

Jim finally groaned, "Spock."

"Jim," Spock said appalled at and then dismissing the roughness of his own voice, "Would you object if I were to lower some of my shields? I...wish to sense...you."

"Oh, _fuck_ , Spock, _yes_ , I mean no, _no_ , I don't object. Anything you want!"

Spock lowered the shields that protected his sense of touch, allowing Jim's fierce joy to flood through him, his lust, his delight, his affection. He used both hands to slide Jim's pajama bottoms to his knees, momentarily losing his breath when he realized Jim was not wearing underwear. This cool human skin was a delight to his senses, and the input from Jim was a sharp counterpoint to his own senses that made him a little dizzy as his touch left trails of heat all over Jim's back and sides and legs. Jim shivered, some part of him quailing at the exposure but the greater part of him edging faster to total loss of control.

"You are close," Spock observed quietly.

"It's you..." was all Jim got out.

Spock did not have an actual link with Jim but he was able to push back with a small level of control over Jim's erection, his orgasm.

He held Jim with one hand on his hip then wrapped the other hand around the base of Jim's cock, already understanding Jim wanted this to last. Spock looked again at the tattoo, and the words written on Jim's skin, and bent to place his lips on that center vertical line of the tattoo. Jim jerked and shuddered against Spock's hands with a gasp and a garbled plea for _something_ that didn't translate even through telepathy and Spock was a little glad that he had, perhaps not the forethought, but at least the knowledge to make this last for Jim, make this an experience for him.

Then Spock licked over cool skin, over the words of the tattoo, and Jim threw his head back and begged, and Spock didn’t understand how it felt that good for Jim but it did, and he felt it with Jim, felt it deeply, and when Spock finally understood that Jim felt as if Spock's touch was etching the lines and curves onto his soul, hope fired deep inside him. Spock licked slower, taking his time, absorbing Jim's sensations; he dragged his tongue over the curves of the tattoo and the angles of Jim's body, pressing his lips to the beginning and termination of each line, until he reached the cleft of Jim's ass and Jim was shaking all over and so out of his mind with pleasure that he barely understood what was happening and that was not what Spock wanted so he changed activities, started speaking in Vulcan. He read the poem slowly, gauging Jim's presence through his hands, through Jim's skin, pausing for Jim to regain coherency, because while blissed-out Jim was a thing of beauty, blissed-out _coherent_ Jim was a thing of mind-blowing wonder.

Jim dropped his head to the tabletop and panted while Spock finished reciting the poem over his back, close enough to breathe over his skin, inhale the scent of Jim, still just far enough away to give Jim time to regain some of his senses. Then Spock moved again; he lifted Jim's knees one at a time, removed his pajamas the rest of the way, then gently moved his hands down the inside of Jim's thighs, sharing the wash of pleasure his touch caused, lightly pressing outward until Jim widened his stance in response.

The constant flow of Jim's sensations kept Spock off balance, kept him on the edge of losing what little control he had left. Jim's erection was rock-hard and his mind was so focused on Spock that it was difficult for Spock to focus back on Jim the way he wanted to, but Spock was not about to give up the gift of telepathic contact Jim had given him, was not going to give back a single inch of what he had already gained. He pressed one hand flat over the tattoo and slid the other palm slowly up Jim's back, went motionless and switched back to Standard and recited the poem again, "This is my body, of and owned by my beloved; this is my skin, of and owned by my beloved. This is my soul, part of his as his is part of mine; all that I am is his, as all of him is mine. This is of and owned by Spock, whom I embrace; who is my eternity; who is my soul."

Underneath the pleasure and the lust and the need, he got a sense of confusion from Jim, a sense that he was casting about for some piece of knowledge but could not quite understand what. "What is that?" Jim asked faintly, and since his face was turned to the side Spock saw that he smiled a little. "You saying you own me now?"

"It is your tattoo."

Jim was together enough to figure that out. His sharp spike of alarm was warning enough for Spock, and he caught Jim when he shoved up, feeling his own clothing rough against Kirk's back and buttocks through telepathy, counterpoint to his own hands hot against Jim's cool chest and stomach, and while lust momentarily surged within Jim at the feel of Spock's erection digging into his ass and Spock's hands on him, he managed to keep focus. "The _fuck_?"

"Jim?"

"I'm not _owned_!"

"It is meant figuratively."

"But you said-"

"Jim, it is a Vulcan love poem."

Jim deflated at that, but Spock could feel the panic that still bubbled in his chest. A distraction was needed. Spock lightly grazed the back of Jim's neck with his teeth and leaned slightly forward, bending Jim forward again; giving him something else to think about. Jim shivered, a sense of sharpness coming through, then his sense of heat when Spock replaced teeth with lips. Spock mouthed wetly up the side of Jim's neck and whispered, "Please remain there."

Then he let go and stepped back and while Jim stayed where he was, he did not hesitate to turn and watch Spock undress. Spock had planned to undress as he always did, carefully, neatly, folding his clothes as he went. But Jim's hot need, burning in his eyes and on his face, evident in his pose, nearly wrecked Spock, and he stripped efficiently and he _knew_ , he did not need telepathy to know, that Jim began _oozing_ lust all over again when he just tossed his clothing over by the bathroom door. Spock wanted that, wanted the confirmation, wanted to feel Jim, wanted it with everything that he was, so he was behind Jim again and handling him everywhere and Jim let him push him back down. Spock felt Jim force down the last bits of panic remaining and Spock felt himself fall just a little further, but then Jim focused on his body, on Spock's body. It was hard and weird for Jim to be under his first officer, but they shared the thought that weird was nothing unusual for Jim; this should be a piece of cake.

Spock handled Jim's tattoo again, adding lips and tongue to the mix again. That was pleasurably distracting and Jim was more than willing to be distracted. He let Spock's touch soothe him, anchor him. But Jim's thoughts came through again...

Sex: one thing.

Eternity: another thing altogether and, frankly, frightening.

Spock removed his mouth the instant he caught _fear_ , and Jim shifted under him with want, then with confusion.

"Was she wrong?" Spock asked, and he didn't really want to know, not really, he just wanted-

"Who?"

"The Betazoid?"

Jim opened his mouth and Spock knew him well enough to expect a smartass remark, but then Spock felt his self-restraint, his honest intent. "No. She wasn't wrong." It was acknowledgement of Jim's own feelings, and Jim saying it out loud started a conflagration that fired through Spock and left him breathless and hot and shivering and urgent and Jim's self-doubt ripped at his heart and the urge to _protect_ was-

"I do," Spock said quickly.

"You do what?"

"I do...feel the same as you."

"That's a _fucking_ relief." And it was a relief to Jim; but Spock did not want it to be like this between them-

"Jim, I would prefer that you did not approach our relationship with such flippancy."

Jim snorted and then choked and jerked in a very satisfying manner when Spock slid his hand down the cleft of Jim's...ass, pressing the knuckle of his thumb directly against Jim's anus and holding there.

"Spock," Jim croaked in protest, but Spock knew his pleasure and was not at all inclined to remove his hand.

Instead he asked, "Is this a sufficient deterrent?"

Jim laughed. "Not hardly." Insurrection. Spock pressed the tip of his thumb inside Jim and nearly fell over at the intensity of the feedback; Jim gasped, shocked, then arched with pleasure, then groaned when Spock withdrew.

"Bastard."

Revolt. Spock moved again, slid his hands all over Jim's lower back on their way back to Jim's ass, again, and Spock leaned down and licked his anus, circling and laving with hard, narrow strokes, then the flat of his tongue, and when he caught Jim's loud thought that he might hyperventilate, Spock penetrated Jim with his tongue.

"Ahh, _fuck_! Spock!"

Jim's blind, gasping pleasure became Spock's addiction in that instant. He moved again, reached up and pressed two fingers between Jim's full lips, said, "Get me wet," because he knew it would strike lightning into Jim's brain, and his other hand reached between Jim's legs to grab his balls and lightly squeeze. Jim sucked Spock's fingers, tongued eagerly, his pleasure in hearing Spock's own startled gasp in return explicitly clear, and he managed to scrape his teeth lightly across Spock's fingertips as he withdrew, taking obscene delight in Spock's own reaction to that.

Spock used wet fingertips on Jim, circling his hole, stroking over it, tracing the calligraphy encircling it, teasing until Jim was again a shaking mess, and as Spock said "This symbol means ' _embrace_ '," he pressed in one finger, pushing carefully through the ring of muscle. He twisted his hand, unerringly found Jim's prostate and stroked it. Jim shouted and pushed back against Spock's hands.

"Spock..." Jim's voice was a choked warning; he was close to orgasm, too close.

Spock closed his free hand around the base of Kirk's cock again, then added a second finger to his hole, repeatedly pushing them in and scissoring on the way out. Jim panted, pushed back in time to Spock's thrusts, and Spock almost laughed out loud when Jim's indecision came through loud and clear: he didn't know which way to move: forward to fuck into Spock's hand, or backward to get fucked by Spock's hand, so Spock timed things in order to give Jim both. Jim still held on to the table, shaking and quivering, and Spock ran him higher and higher, pushing him closer until he caught the thought that Jim thought he might just pass out and die because it was pleasure like he'd never experienced before. The thought of Spock's hands on Jim, _inside_ Jim, was like electricity for Jim.-

Spock added a third finger.

Jim gasped, babbled senselessly, pushed himself up; every muscle in his body shook beautifully and Spock held on to Jim's cock, grounded him, but it wasn't enough so Jim pushed back and Spock pulled out his fingers and then pushed them in again and he felt Jim's heart racing nearly as fast as his own as Jim bore down and pushed back again, and Spock leaned to mouth the tattoo and Jim-

" _Please!_ "

Spock pulled out his fingers again and pushed Jim in the middle of his back and Jim went back down fast and Spock's hands were on his hips and Spock drove into him, into his cool body, spreading and opening him further even with the preparation, and it was blinding relief of sorts but at that same time it was only the start because he wasn't holding Jim back any more and all of Jim was now focused on was the heat and weight and girth of Spock inside him, pushing in, dragging completely out, over and over, then Spock pushed in and stopped moving.

Jim whimpered, and he wanted hands on his cock, painfully so, and Spock wanted to put his hands there again, feel the hard silk of Jim in his hands. Spock pushed his hands up Jim's sides and arms, feeling the trails of heat he left again, and leaned forward, covering Jim with his body, his hands, his arms, nosing his neck and then his ear, and said another thing he knew would cause his human to react.

"I wish to watch your face when you come."

Jim sucked air and lost coherency, and as soon as Spock withdrew from his body and leaned back on his heels, Jim turned as fast as he could. He stared greedily at Spock.

"I've been blind," he said earnestly.

Spock tilted his head and rose up on his knees. "We do not always see what is right in front of us."

Jim nodded as he leaned forward, reaching to bring Spock's face to his. They kissed, and Spock hoped Jim could last at least a little longer, because there were still things he wanted to do, places on Jim he wanted to touch. Jim's lips were perfect against his, cool and demanding and needy and when Spock wrapped his hand around both their dicks and stroked, a very clear _FUCK_ came through to him and Jim reared back in blissful shock and that was all Spock could take. He pushed Jim down to the table again, this time on his back, and spread his legs and with a fast shift of hands to his hips shoved in him and Jim arched and grabbed mindlessly at that table again and Spock pulled nearly out, just far enough that he could feel the echo of tension and fire and a staggering heartbeat caused by the flared head of his own dick dragging against the inside of Jim's hole and then Spock shoved in again and stopped again.

Jim lifted his head and Spock felt his intent to object, so he started tracing the tattoo on his balls. "This symbol means ' _eternity_ '." Jim laughed a little at that between pants.

Spock pulled out just far enough to catch the head of his cock against Jim's inner ring of muscle again, and Jim gasped, groaned, his sounds becoming Spock's own form of electricity. "So fucking _good_!" Spock precisely held the pressure against Jim's asshole as he traced the calligraphy around the base of Jim's dick.

"This one means ' _soul_ '."

"Spock! I'm gonna die!"

"I will not allow that to happen."

"Guhnng..." Spock traced the last beautiful curl on the top of Jim's cock and he felt it, he _felt_ it when something lit up in the back of Jim's head and so Spock pushed in balls deep, pulled out and pushed in again, grabbed Jim's cock and stroked pleasure into him, and Jim cried his objection when Spock came so close to pulling out again, then Spock pumped him once more and the light turned into an _explosion_ and Spock could barely move from it and Jim was coming, his balls drawing up tight, breath hitching, every muscle in his body clenching into mesmerizing definition, his back leaving the table, come spurting over his stomach and chest and Spock watched him shout and gasp and groan and convulse, lost himself in wide open endless blue as Jim came, and Jim was wide open for Spock in every way he could possibly be.

Everything coalesced into Spock surging _into_ Jim, _over_ Jim, and Jim's returning focus was solely on Spock, and Spock dropped everything except Jim, let Jim see his passion and trust and love when he came, let Jim see the poetry Spock felt when they touched, and he pulled Jim up to him, showed Jim the eternity and joy in Spock's own pleasure, released every last control he had and let everything shine in his eyes, on his face, in their kiss, and when he felt the heat of his own come fill Jim's body, he cried out his only thought into his beautiful human's mouth, " _Jim_."

And when Jim's eyes slowly closed and the feedback faded to a low buzz, he collapsed forward into Spock's arms, his last thought Spock understood was trust that Spock would catch him as he fell.


End file.
